Forgotten Champion
by priestpotter
Summary: Harry at the orphanage. Don't want to give away too much of the plot yet. Read the first chapter and tell me if I should continue it!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter I

-

The winds whipped through the narrow streets of London, the unusually chilly June weather forcing those on the streets to seek shelter indoors from the blustery weather. Only those with nowhere else to turn, no place to seek immediate shelter, walked on the windy streets. An unassuming small boy was one of those few.

He was indeed small, perhaps ten at the oldest, wearing a worn out red jacket, his shaggy, unkempt black hair flying around in the wind, occasionally revealing an odd lightning-shaped scar on is forehead. He wore round spectacles, tape wrapping the middle to keep the old pair from falling apart altogether. He had ragged jeans on as well, patches where they had ripped before, the bottoms folded up to keep the just-too-large trousers from scraping along the ground.

He was, by all accounts, completely… _un_-unusual. His only noticeable feature, the only aspect of this slightly too skinny boy, walking down the deserted streets of London alone, was his piercing, green eyes. They betrayed all his emotion, his happiness, his sadness, his loneliness, all reflected through those striking green orbs for all the world to see.

The winds quieted somewhat, the road becoming a bit calmer. His jacket stopped flapping against his skinny frame, allowing him to pick his head up from the collar of his jacket, to glance at the street around him.

On the opposite walkway, just turning a corner was a family of three. A handsome man with black hair, square frames resting on his nose and a pretty, petite woman with long red hair, her kind eyes visible even from this distance. They were swinging a young boy, only four or five, lightly into the air, his laughter showing how much he enjoyed it. They all wore large grins, walking side by side down the streets of London, no doubt walking towards their home. They seemed carefree, just enjoying each other's company, the love they shared almost palpable, even from the opposite side of the street.

The green eyed boy watched them as they walked down the street, his eyes betraying his longing. The family seemed so happy, so content. He watched them, wondering what it was like, until they rounded the corner, gone from view, gone from his life.

The winds picked up again, forcing him to bring up the collar of his faded jacket, trying to shield his face from the cold breeze. With one last look, he turned away, returning to his walk down the once again silent street, his pace slower than before.

He walked down the still street a few yards more before turning past an old iron-gate fence, the clinking of the gate disturbing the empty streets of the English city. Walking up the path to an ancient, but clean, small building, his aged sneakers impacted the slightly-cracked concrete softly. The lawn was covered in second-hand toys, every free space filled small ragged dolls, duct-taped plastic big wheels, and even a patched football.

The small boy ignored these, well used to their presence, patches of green grass dispersed through the largely dried, brown lawn. He walked confidently up to the worn white door, the paint peeling in several places both on the door and its surrounding frame.

He ignored the sign above the door as well, well used to seeing the large, faded black letters that marked his home. The only home he could ever remember.

_St. Godric's Orphanage_

-

The door creaked as he removed it from its ancient frame, the hinges on the wall signaling their protest loudly. Though the lawn outside was deserted, more than likely due to the harsh wind storm blowing through the Southern English city, the inside was anything but.

The inside of the tiny building was cramped, but well lighted. The sparse pictures on the wall were hung straight, but the paint from their frames and even the wall behind them were peeling. The hallway was a war zone of sorts, small children, all dragging worn toys or faded shirts, running throughout the house, their boundless energy having no outlet. Their sound, the sound of children enjoying whatever meager toys and fun they had, rang through the cramped spaces of the building.

Suddenly, an elderly woman, with a kind face, but tired, overworked eyes rounded the corner, chasing a small boy of perhaps five. His untidy brown hair flapping against his head as he sprinted from the Caretaker, laughing innocently as he initiated a one-way game of tag. It was the small boy who noticed the raven-haired older boy standing by the now closed door, a soft grin on his features.

"Harry!" he shouted, sprinting into the open arms of the ten-year-old boy, laughing as the elderly Caretaker sighed audibly behind him.

"Oh thank goodness your back" she sighed, her kind, wrinkled face splitting into a tired grin. "I'm at my wits end keeping this one!"

"I don't doubt it Mrs. Marshwater" he laughed back, looking down at the young boy in his arms. Though only ten, Harry acted mature for his age, more from necessity than anything else. It was only Mr. and Mrs. Marshwater that ran the entire orphanage, both working overtime, relying on a tiny sum of charity to keep the orphanage open.

They cared for their wards, trying to give each the attention and care they needed, but times were tough. There wasn't much money coming in and the bills never stopped piling up. Harry had begun at an early age to help the elderly couple with their duties, first with rounding up the discarded toys outside when he was little, to now, when he used his own energy to keep control over the more energetic children, such as little Danny, still hugging his chest.

"How many times have I told you to call me Martha, _not _Mrs. Marshwater?" she sighed, the daily tradition started.

"_Too _many times Mrs. Marshwater" he grinned back, earning a smile of his own from the good-natured Caretaker.

Her blue eyes moved to the squirming five-year-old before Harry, her fine, white hair still disheveled, no doubt from chasing the rascal throughout the house. "And you! It's time for Math young man, now trudge your little behind back to your desk" she stated sternly, causing the small boy to hold on to Harry tighter, his large, pleading eyes meeting Harry's green eyes, alight with amusement.

"But its _Math_!" he whined, dragging out the word for emphasis. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the adorable reaction. "And Harry's home from school! Why can't I play with him instead of learning…_Math_!" added, shivering as he spoke the final word, the subject no doubt the bane of existence.

"I think you should listen to her Danny, if you don't finish your school work now I might not have time to read your bedtime story to you later" he spoke, showing the boy a small frown. The effect was instantaneous, the little brown-haired boy opening his mouth comically, before racing down the hall towards his desk with renewed vigor to finish his division. Reading _Tracy and Chase and the Five Dragon Race _with Harry was his favorite part of the day, no _division _was going to stop that!

"You're a life saver" Mrs. Marshwater sighed, peering down the hall to see Danny busily working on his homework problems. "Hm, you're home a little later than usual though, everything alright at school dear?" she asked curiously. She hadn't exaggerated when she called Harry a lifesaver. He had been helping her and her husband for years now, only a little at first, but now that he was older, he was great with the young ones, patient and caring with all of them.

It was actually sad that he was still here. Not because she didn't want him, she loved him dearly, but he should have gone to a family long ago, to a home where he could have loving parents, every bit as great and caring as he was. But he was ten now, almost eleven, and nobody adopted children that old. Couples wanted babies, babies they could raise as their own, not ten year old boys, halfway grown up already.

"Oh, well today was the last day of school you know. My Teacher wanted to talk to me after class" he explained, moving to tidy up the toys on the creaking, wooden staircase near the door.

"I hope nothing is wrong" she answered worriedly. Harry was always so great while he was here, she couldn't imagine he made trouble at school.

"Oh no, nothing like that" he replied quickly, glad that she cared enough to be worried about him. "She actually wanted to talk to me about my grades a little" he added, though a bit sheepishly, moving to pick up a young girl, no older than a year, from the floor, dropping her softly in the closed-off pen near the small nursery.

Most of the rooms were downstairs; including the kitchens, nursery, and other miscellaneous rooms, such as the makeshift classroom Danny was working in now. All of the sleeping quarters were upstairs; the small rooms shared by at least four people each. Space was tight, but they managed. It helped the young children learn to play together and get along as well, as proven by the many sounds of laughter ringing through the tiny building.

"Your grades? But you've always done so well" she answered worriedly again. Harry was a bright child, so much potential. She couldn't help but think how'd great he'd be if he could just get away from here.

"Yes, that's actually what she wanted to talk to me about. You see, there's this program that the school sponsors. Each of the Teachers recommend a student from their class and then they all vote to select one child from the entire school. There's this prestigious boarding school, near Wales I think, that pays full tuition for its students. The school has some connection with them and they send one child every year. Well, I won I guess, my Teacher recommended me a few weeks ago" he answered with a smile, calming the elderly woman.

"Oh Harry, that's wonderful! I'm so proud!" she answered honestly. "When do you attend?" she asked, happy that someone had recognized the young boy for how truly wonderful he was.

"I turned it down" he answered, glancing up at the surprised blue eyes of Mrs. Marshwater.

"But why?" she asked surprised. "It sounds wonderful. You've done so well at school, I'm sure you'd do well at this boarding school!" she added, moving towards the green eyed boy, his handsome face sporting a small, sad smile.

"I couldn't leave you and Mr. Marshwater. You need me here. My school now is fine, I don't need to go some boarding school on the other side of the country" he explained, his striking green eyes meeting hers.

She sighed, brushing his black locks from his forehead, revealing the lightning shaped scar, the only souvenir, besides a letter telling them his name and birthday, of his time before the orphanage.

"Harry, we'll get by. You're only ten, you have your whole life ahead of you, don't let us keep you from being your best" she whispered, just barely audible over the sounds of the energetic children.

"Please, it's already done. They've already told the reserve student" he answered softly, feeling like a normal ten year old boy for a moment, a normal child being chastised lightly by a parent. But the moment was fleeting, gone as soon as it had come.

"Harry, promise me the next time something like this happens, you'll take it. Promise me" she whispered back, looking back and forth between his compassionate green eyes, so caring in a place where attention was stretched so thin. They tried, but they couldn't be there for every child all the time.

"I can't. You need me…"

"Harry. Promise me" she whispered back forcefully, bending down before the boy, looking eye-level at him.

He heard the plea in her voice, desperate that he should promise her, even if he didn't want to.

"I promise" he answered softly. Mrs. Marshwater smiled softly, moving forward to give him a small hug. Though the gesture was fleeting, feeling loved and cared for by someone, it felt good. A feeling he received very little of.

He knew little of his own past, why he came to his orphanage, in this part of London, but all the older children knew Mrs. Marshwater's story.

She never had children, born sterile from some rare medical condition. Her husband knew before they were married, she tried to call it off, telling him he should find a woman that could give him a son, a child he could love.

He refused, starting this orphanage the next day. They were married right outside, right on the lawn. Their wedding picture, a black and white photo, showed them just below the newly created sign, the building in pristine condition.

The building was new then, funds plentiful. But her husband had been injured a few years later, causing them to cut his hours and his pay. He still worked as long as he could, but his back was ruined and few places hired the impaired. Still, she loved him with all her being, knowing this orphanage, a place full of children with no homes, no parents, was his gift to her, the gift of children when she thought she'd have none.

Yes, times were tough, but if she could do it all over again, she wouldn't change a thing.

The rest of the day moved fast, Harry helping a few children around the house, playing with the more energetic children until bedtime finally approached. Mr. Marshwater had come back as well, telling Harry a great story from work, his crooked back preventing him from exerting himself too much however.

Finally, bedtime did approach, Harry helping round up the children, the few older kids, only a sixteen and fourteen year old boy, helping a little as well.

"Where's Lizzie?" asked Harry, the sun was still hovering in the sky despite the late time, a testament to the long, English summer days. The winds had subsided somewhat as well, but a light summer chill had descended upon the city, giving most of the children no hesitation to snuggle under their covers.

"I haven't seen her Harry. I figured she was with the others upstairs" she called back, struggling to put a night shirt on a squirming three year old.

Having just checked all the rooms, Harry realized the energetic girl must be outside, hopefully not too far. Putting on his faded red jacket that hung by the back door, he walked out into the backyard, searching for the familiar young girl.

It didn't take long, spotting her sitting in a patch of green grass, idling pulling up a few blades to break into smaller pieces. Her fiery red hair, so distinct among the other children, also didn't help her hide well.

Walking over quietly, he sat by the silent girl, pulling up a few blades himself. He didn't know what was wrong, but Lizzie was never this quiet, normally the loudest, most outgoing of any of the children.

"I'm scared Harry" she spoke softly, a light breeze ruffling her waist-length red hair. She pulled her eyes up to his, meeting his comforting gaze.

"I know Lizzie" he answered. It dawned on him why she was so quiet, so reserved tonight.

She was getting adopted.

A young couple had stopped by a few weeks ago, eager to adopt a child of their own. The wife had the same problem as Mrs. Marshwater, unable to give birth herself. It didn't take them long to find Lizzie, the energetic red head running around outside. They fell in love with her instantly, just as everyone who encountered the lovable hazel eyed girl did.

"I don't want to go" she added, her bottom lip quivering, unshed tears clouded her pretty eyes. "What if I go and they don't want me anymore!"

Harry, well used to comforting the younger children, gently lifted the small girl onto his lap, the red head instantly burying her head in his chest.

"Of course they'll love you, forever and ever" he comforted the girl, the hazel eyed fire ball resting her head lightly on his chest still.

"But I don't want to go without you" she answered, pulling her head to reveal the lone tear falling down her young face. Her hazel eyes were wide, revealing how frightened she really was.

"I'll be fine here Lizzie, you should be happy. You're new Mommy and Daddy will be here tomorrow and they're going to take you to a real home, with everything you could ever dream of!" he continued, Mrs. Marshwater watching from the back porch, the porch light turned on now due to the setting sun.

"But what about you? Where are your new Mommy and Daddy?" she asked innocently, worried for the boy she considered her brother.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon" he lied. Truthfully, he had given hope of being adopted a long time ago, he held little hope of a couple ever coming to collect him now. His life was here at the orphanage, where he was needed.

Lizzie nodded into his chest, the child slowly drifting off to sleep. The late hour, plus all the excitement, had worn her out. Picking up the light red haired girl, he carried her back to the orphanage door, where Mrs. Marshwater waited, a sad smile on her face.

"I'm sure they will be here soon" she whispered as the mature young man walked past, too many responsibilities and duties for one so young. He didn't reply, his weak nod only to show he heard her, not to show he agreed.

He walked in the door, past the faded white paint of the orphanage, the only home he had ever known.

-

Little plot bunny I had, want to know if I should continue it!

Review and let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

-

"No, no, no! _These _horsies are pink and _these _horsies are blue" corrected the shoulder-length brown-haired three-year old, handing him a blue crayon instead of the green one he had taken out of the box.

"But green's my favorite color Angie" answered Harry, pouting his lower lip but failing miserably to hide his wide grin. They were lying in the backyard, bringing out the new coloring book that had been donated to the orphanage. It was sunny out, the chilly weather from a few weeks ago replaced with a warm, comfortable English summer.

The other children had come out as well; busy playing with the football or just playing tag on the lawn. The blue skies and light cloud coverage were too much for any kid to stay indoors, not that Mrs. Marshwater tried, as the fair weather was just too enticing. They'd been cooped up inside more days than not and, judging by the happy cries ringing around the pair, the orphaned children were making the most of the warm day.

Harry and Angie were lying in the grass to the right of the path, ready to start coloring in the first picture of _My Horsie and Me_, just as Harry had promised a few days earlier. They had found a nice green patch, away from most of the activity.

"_These _horsies are _blue _and _these _horsies are _pink_" she repeated, narrowing her eyes and putting her tiny hands on her hips, indicating the discussion was over. Harry laughed, nodding his head as he accepted the blue crayon from the determined girl. The coloring book may have been new, but the crayons themselves were ancient, most of them rubbed down to well past a quarter of their original size.

Harry had just started his third horse, his blue crayon lines all over the page, a sharp contrast from Angie's neat, tidy pink horses on the opposite paper. It seemed coloring skills did _not _get better with age.

"Harry! Can you come inside for a moment dear? I need some help in the kitchen" called Mrs. Marshwater from the porch. She was cradling young Liam with her right arm, bouncing the four-month old in an attempt to calm the restless newborn.

Liam, sadly, was the newest orphan to join their club. The young baby had miraculously survived the car wreck that had killed his parents, a pile up that took the lives of over seven English citizens a few weeks ago. Little Liam was the only survivor of the grisly accident, firefighters clearing out the wreckage, desperately trying to reach the source of the muffled crying, frantic to save the poor infant from the gnarled remains of his parent's car.

Doctors were astounded; not only by his survival, but by how perfectly healthy he seemed. He didn't a scratch on him. The only other person to be shipped to the hospital instead of the mortuary that day died on route in the ambulance, the medical team unable to stop the internal bleeding. Liam's survival was a miracle.

Young Liam, however, had waited in the nursery of the hospital for weeks, workers searching through mounds of records to find any relatives to take in the poor child. When none could be found, no matter how long the search to find a home for the practically newborn baby, he became just another ward of the State, just another statisticeH. He arrived here at the orphanage a few days later.

"Okay Mrs. Marshwater!" Harry called back, shifting his weight to rest on his knees. He wiped his black bangs from his forehead, revealing his prominent, red scar for a few seconds.

"Angie, I need to go inside for a few minutes, but I'll be back out in a few minutes okay?" he asked the young girl beside him, still lying on her stomach in the soft grass. She didn't answer, lost in her own world as she lightly colored her pink horses, humming a soft tune to herself as she kicked her legs in the air gently.

Shaking his head with a soft grin, he pulled himself to his feet, brushing the grass remnants from his faded blue t-shirt. After, looking back down to make sure Angie was still content to color by herself for the moment, he walked back up to the orphanage, careful to avoid the hordes of children running around and playing.

Letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside the tiny building, he walked down the familiar hallway to the small kitchen, spotting Mrs. Marshwater easily. Liam was still crying, despite her best efforts to calm him while she prepared dinner for all of the orphans at the building.

"I just need both my hands for a few minutes and I can't put him down in the nursery until he's asleep. The other dears are taking their naps now" she explained, Harry nodding as he accepted the crying infant from his Caretaker.

Harry looked down at the newborn in his arms, his head lightly covered in dark brown hair. Liam was still scared, no doubt missing his parents. It would take more than a few weeks for the young child to relax without the love of his parents, but, unfortunately, it was something that had to be done.

Harry held the infant gently in his arms, pressing up the baby lightly against his faded, light blue Tee as he rocked him. He walked away from the bustle of the kitchen, leaving Mrs. Marshwater some temporary quiet to finish her cooking.

Retreating to the living area, he sat down on the outdated, clean couch, resting his back against the cushion, still holding the baby gently in his arms. Slowly, whether it was the cool, soothing fabric he was gently pressed up against, or the gentle rocking motions, little Liam's cries began to soften until they stopped altogether, the young infant opening his eyes to take in his surroundings.

His tiny blue eyes met those of Harry's, his kind green eyes comforting to the young child. He looked up at Harry wide eyed, causing Harry to give a light smile, forgetting the all-too-familiar tragic past of the new orphan. Harry's parents had died in a car crash as well after all.

Gently giving his index finger to the curious baby, he laughed softly when he felt the small tug from the infant's tiny hands. Liam stared at him wide eyed for a few seconds more before slowly closing his eyes, turning his body against Harry's protective chest. A few minutes later, Liam was fast asleep, clutching the soft fabric of Harry's shirt with his tiny fists.

Harry sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the relaxed slumber of the exhausted, and terrified, baby.

"You always did have a way with the newborns" commented Mrs. Marshwater, standing in the doorframe, her kind features surveying the scene with a smile. Harry had always been able to connect with the orphans, though she supposed it was more than just sharing a common background. Children would always calm when he held them, relax when he was near. Whether it was the kind, green eyes or the softness of his touch and attitude, the orphanage always ran smoother when he was here.

"He was just tired, that's all" he answered, not taking his eyes off the sleeping newborn in his arms, the sounds of his soft breathing filling the tiny living room. Mrs. Marshwater just nodded, walking forward to take the sleeping infant from his arms. Gently removing the tiny infant's grip on Harry's faded Tee; she left to place the newborn in the nursery, giving him plenty of quiet to continue his nap.

Still sitting on the outdated couch, Harry relaxed in the cool shade of the home. The blinds were drawn, keeping the hot sun from invading the cool of the living room. Taking a rare moment to slow down, Harry glanced around the shady room, noticing the stack of post on the low table.

Leaning forward to pick up the letters, he took the pile from the table, resting back against the couch. Taking the top letter from the pile, he read the messy handwriting on the cover of the white paper. It looked like a letter from one of Mrs. Marshwater's friends. The writing seemed rushed, as if the letter had been sent in a moment of great panic, or great joy.

Deciding to not open the personal message, he placed it back down on the table, moving to the second letter of the pile. Glancing down at the roughly 4"x 9" envelope, he couldn't help but let his good mood slip away.

"Give that here Harry" softly spoke a voice behind him, from the hallway.

He turned to see Mrs. Marshwater standing there, holding her hand out, waiting for Harry to hand over the aforementioned envelope. He looked back down at the letter, the sinking sensation in his stomach furthering.

"It says it's overdue Mrs. Marshwater" he answered, not looking up from the large, red stamped letters on the front of the envelope. He had seen the bills before, watched Mr. and Mrs. Marshwater argue over how to pay them well into the night, but holding the actual bill in his hand, its large, red letters glaring at him, reminded him how tight things really were.

"I know Harry" she replied, reaching forward to lightly take the bill from his hands. "I'll just ask George to try and get an advance on his paycheck" she continued, though Harry wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked, not tearing his eyes from the elderly woman's face. She stared back with a stoic expression, but he could see the exhaustion just behind her tired, kind blue eyes.

"No, Harry. This isn't your problem. There's nothing you can do" she answered, turning away from the concerned ten-year old, her footsteps into the hallway echoing through the empty house.

Harry turned slowly, slumping back into the couch, a feeling of helplessness coursing through him now. He knew he didn't have any money; he had even tried to let Mrs. Marshwater allow him to get a job last summer. She had of course refused, shouting that no child under her care would be getting a job at ten. He understood the reasoning, but still, if he had any money, any money at all, he'd give it all to the orphanage. He'd do it in a heartbeat.

Glancing back down at the much diminished pile, he lifted the final letter. It was certainly different than the other pieces of post, its light yellow, hard, textured feel much different the smooth, white of a normal letter. The strangest part, however, was certainly the address.

_Mr. H. Potter,_

_The Third Bedroom on the Left,_

_17, Edmond Road,_

_Leytonstone, Eastern District,_

_London_

He stared at the letter for a few moments, making sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. He had never, nor had any of the other orphans, received a letter… from anyone. He stared at the sparklingly green letters for a few seconds more, before turning the letter over in his hands. Expecting to see a note explaining the joke, his startled green eyes were instead met with an engraved crest, though one he had definitely never seen before.

A golden Lion, with an impressive scarlet mane, was emblazoned on the crest, next to a silver Snake, a black Badger, and a bronze Raven. They were each imposed on a field of scarlet, red, yellow, and blue respectively, all centered on a large, black letter H. It was rather imposing, looking like something out of the Middle Ages.

Glancing around the room one more time, he gently tore the wax from the letter, opening the folds slowly. Honestly, the inside of the envelope was fairly… boring. There wasn't anything special really, just a few sheets of paper, though paper itself was a bit odd.

"Mrs. Marshwater, did you send me a letter?" he called behind him, in the general direction of the kitchen. A few seconds the elderly Caretaker appeared, rubbing her hands on her apron.

"What's that dear?" she asked curiously, walking into the small room.

"Did you send me a letter" he asked again, holding the letter forward for Mrs. Marshwater to inspect.

"No, I haven't sent any letters" she answered confused, looking down at the strange, textured envelope.

"Do you know why it would be here then?" he asked, sitting forward on the couch. "It doesn't even feel like a normal letter" he added, motioning towards the textured paper.

"Hmm, you're right. It feels like… parchment, though I haven't touched the stuff in years, not since I took a few art classes at the University when I was young" she answered, continuing to inspect the letter. "Is this for Geoff? It _is _his birthday in a few days" she asked, commenting the last part to herself.

"It's actually addressed me" he answered, shrugging his shoulders when she gave him a questioning look. "That's why I asked if you sent it."

"What does it say?" she asked, handing the odd letter back to Harry. He gently took it from her hands, shrugging his shoulders as he held it.

"Haven't opened it yet" he replied, pulling the first of the letters from inside the envelope. He read it quickly, Mrs. Marshwater following suit over his shoulder.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" Harry scoffed, now positive someone had made an obvious, though very well done, practical joke. "It says here it's a school for all eleven year olds with magic ability" he continued, his smirk growing wider as he read the preposterous letter. "Can you believe someone went through all this trouble for something like this?" he laughed, looking back at Mrs. Marshwater. Though he seemed to consider the whole thing a joke, she could see something in his eyes that she just couldn't place.

She didn't share in his joke, however, as she read the letter intently, gently removing the letter from his hands to read it easier. After a few seconds, when she had read the first letter in the envelope, she lowered it, looking off at some point in the living room, her eyes lost in thought.

After a few seconds she collected herself, glancing down at Harry curiously.

"You don't actually believe it do you?" Harry asked, the grin on his face sliding away quickly. Mrs. Marshwater didn't reply, looking at Harry as if she had never really seen him before.

"You remember when you were seven and that group of kids from down the street came and spray-painted the side of the house in the middle of the night?" she asked suddenly, her blue eyes locked on his startled green ones.

"Uh… yeah I think so. Why?" he questioned confused, wondering where _that _had come from.

"You were so upset when we saw it in the morning, probably one of the few times I've _ever _seen you so upset" she continued, ignoring his question.

"Well… yeah. Mr. Marshwater spent all summer painting this place and those blokes just came down and ruined all of it" he explained, remembering that morning vividly. It still made him angry remembering the profanity that was written on the side of house, the obvious vandalism that nobody did anything about.

"I don't see what this has to do with…" he started, before the mature ten-year old was cut off by his Caretaker.

"We all went inside after that, but you stayed out there. I went to go fetch you for breakfast a few minutes later and you were staring at the side of the house in wonder" she added, moving to sit down by the confused young boy.

"It was gone. All of it. The side of the house was pure white again, even better than when George finished painting it days earlier. I was only gone five minutes, nothing could have done that. I remember thinking at the time that it was incredible, that it was like… magic" she finished, her blue eyes once again connecting with his.

"I don't really remember" he lied, tearing his eyes off hers. Truthfully, he remembered that day very well. He remembered waking up in the morning to find that vandalism on the orphanage.

When Mr. and Mrs. Marshwater and all the other children went inside, he remembered standing there, staring at the vulgar message, written in messy red spray-paint. He had closed his eyes, his anger at that spray-paint washing through him, his anger at the whole situation. He just wanted it to disappear, for the orphanage to stay as new as possible, even if it was a losing battle.

He remembered feeling strange at the time, something coursing through him, weakening him in the early morning. A few seconds later he opened his eyes… finding the message gone. That's where Mrs. Marshwater had found him, where she too found the message miraculously, or _magically_, vanished.

Mrs. Marshwater just nodded at his obvious lie. Harry had never been a good liar, even when he was trying to cover for someone else. It was just a trait he didn't possess.

To Mrs. Marshwater, the prospect of magic being real in anyone, including herself, was beyond silly, it was ludicrous. That is, for everyone…

… except Harry.

From the day she first set eyes on him, she could tell he would be special, even at the tender age of a year and a half.

-

It was a fairly mundane afternoon by most standards, perhaps even a bit dreary. A heavy fog had rolled into their area of London that day, the overcast skies darkening the streets even further. George was away at work and she was running the orphanage by herself, the tiny building already overrun, even ten years ago.

A thin, horse-faced woman had entered the front door of the orphanage, bringing a chilly wind inside with her. The late November weather was colder than usual that year, and the quickly setting sun on the horizon did nothing to help keep the chill at bay. The woman, whose name she never learned, seemed not to notice.

There was a car parked out in front of the orphanage, she could just make out a rather obese man behind the wheel and a baby seat in the back. The harsh-looking woman was holding a bundle of worn-down blankets, patches where she had carelessly repaired it. Hastily shaking it around, she stopped to slam the door of the orphanage roughly. Giving the older hinges a look of disdain; she turned to face the grained face of the Caretaker.

"Do you run this place" she asked, holding her nose in the air haughtily, as if merely standing in the orphanage was beneath her.

"Yes" Mrs. Marshwater answered simply, feeling pleasantries with this woman was an unnecessary formality.

"Here then" she replied quickly, shoving the bundle into her arms. "The brat's parents died in a car crash and we'll not be saddled with him any longer. He's somebody else's problem now" she finished, shoving a letter into her other hand.

Without another word, though she stayed long enough to survey the orphanage with her narrow, beady eyes, she turned and opened the door, walking through it briskly before slamming it shut behind her. Yes, it had been an unusually chilly November.

-

She looked down at Harry now, almost ten-years later, only a few weeks until his eleventh birthday, his soft green eyes remained the same now as they were when she peered in the bundle of blankets that first time.

"I guess I'll just go throw this out" spoke Harry suddenly, moving towards the trash bin in the kitchen with the envelope in his hands.

"Well, Harry wait! Don't you want to…"

"What?! Hold on to it in case I have magic?" he asked angrily, though he wasn't looking at her, but more at the shaking letter in his hand. The sudden mood swing surprised her, she had never heard such anger in his voice before.

"If I had magic I could just make the bills go away!" he spat, walking from the small room towards the staircase upstairs, Mrs. Marshwater following worriedly. "If I had magic I could have healed Billy's arm last spring! I could have done all the work for you and Mr. Marshwater! I could have…" he faltered, the fight leaving his voice.

Harry sighed heavily, too much toile on one so young. "I could have saved my parents from that car wreck" he finished weakly. He placed his foot on the bottom step of the staircase, his free hand gripping the worn rail, his other firmly holding the letter.

Mrs. Marshwater was too stunned to reply, the amount of resentment in his voice, aimed at himself, was almost too much to bear. The sudden mood swing was still too surprising to react to.

"I would and I should, but… but I just can't…" continued Harry, a sad, longing look in his eyes.

The warm light from outside seemed unable to penetrate the sudden cold that swept through the house. She had never seen Harry so beaten, so much grief for one before his eleventh birthday.

"No… there's no magic in me" he finished defeated, retreating upstairs, leaving the beautiful day to those who deserve it.

-

Wow, the feedback from the first chapter was incredible!

Hope Chapter 2 was just as good!


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